Home Is Where the Heart Is

In our case, home is where our dogs are.  Once upon a time, we lived together as a happy family.  Colin, Dakota, Sam, and I shared a loving home in southwest Bend.  Along came pregnancy complications and our family was torn apart.

We have not lived at home for 23 days.  Our dogs have never been away from us for so long.  Yes, we have taken some long vacations, but never any longer than a little over two weeks.  We have left our dogs in someone else's care for over three weeks now.  Granted, very good care with family and friends that our dogs know and trust, but nonetheless they have been uprooted for quite some time.

The first week we were staying here at Ronald McDonald house I went home one afternoon to see the dogs and pick up some things.  At that time, they were staying at our house with my parents.  I felt pretty good about things because at least they were in their own home.  As they sat with me, I scratched their ears, gave them kisses, and sobbed like a baby (I recognize that I sound insane and should be ashamed of myself, but remember I am postpartum).  While they stared at me, confused because I was so upset, I apologized profusely for abandoning them.  We decided when I got back to Ronald McDonald that we needed to go home and stay the weekend with our boys.  As nice as that was, it made it so hard to come back and be away from them again.

Don't get me wrong, we have been so fortunate to have a place here at the Ronald McDonald house.  It has been such a blessing to have a place so close to the NICU with a golf cart that we can use to go back and forth.  The camaraderie we have shared with other people here who are going through similar situations acted as free therapy when we were trying to adjust to our new, temporary lives.  This is a nice place, with nice residents, great volunteers running the house, and plenty of comfortable places in the common areas to relax.  I could not be more grateful for the opportunity to spend the past two weeks here, however, it is time to go home.

Other than the fact I miss my dogs so much it hurts, we need to go home and get ready for the new addition to our family.  Fortunately, I was able to get a lot done this summer before I became ill.  My parents have been so helpful making sure my nursery ideas have come to life.  Generous family and friends have come together and purchased the major things we need to be ready to have a baby at home.  Besides needing to get more stuff done to be ready for Jackson to come home, we need to live in our own home and feel normal again.

The other issue is Colin and I have shared a room for 23 days.  In the hospital, he slept on a less than comfortable roll away and couch for 10 days.  Here at Ronald McDonald, we share one room.  Keep in mind, I have not been permitted to sleep a full night since I checked into the hospital August 1st.  At first, I was woken up throughout the night by nurses who needed to check my vitals, give me medications, or draw blood.  Once Jackson came, I had those interruptions plus now I have to pump for breast milk every three hours.  Now that we are sharing one room, Colin is subjected to the obnoxious sound of my breast pump every three hours.  I don't have another room to escape to so at least one of us is getting a full night's sleep.  Colin has to go to work and function like a regular human being despite being woken up night after night.  He is handling it like a champ, but it is time for him to get some rest so he can provide for our family.

Tonight was our last night at the Ronald McDonald house.  Colin found it amusing how quickly I made the decision that I need to go home.  Actually, I had been mulling over the idea internally for a while so it really was not a rash decision.  I just needed to process the idea and make sure it was the right thing to do.  As we were walking into the house this evening, we stopped at the front desk to ask permission to go home for the weekend.  It hit me pretty hard when the volunteer on duty said she would talk to the head volunteer about it.  The issue is if someone has an emergency and they are from out of town we would need to give up our room and if we aren't here to do that they would have to take our stuff out for us.  Of course, they would call us first and we would come do that ourselves, but I struck me that someone else may need this room more than we do at this point.

We have had a great experience here, but it is time to go home.  I am going to be spending more time in the NICU from now on holding Jackson and getting to know him.  He is much more alert now and has all the sudden matured into a baby who can be fussy and let you know if he does not like something.  Before he was a quiet little preemie who just let the world around him control him.  Now he is much more vocal about what is going on.  If I am going to truly be ready to take this little person home, I need to spend a significant amount of time learning his cues and how he operates.  Also, the research shows that the more "kangaroo time" (or skin-to-skin contact) we spend together the faster he will grow and his brain will develop.

It is time to bust my baby out of the NICU.  I believe that spending more time during the day with him working on feeding and getting to know each other and spending nights at home with my dogs will help me get more rest and put my mind at ease.  Also, being able to pump in a different room than where Colin is sleeping may allow him to get some precious sleep before Jackson comes home and deprives both of us any real sleep for a few months.  When I told the volunteers we are moving out, they were insistent that it is okay for us to go home for the weekend and that we don't have to leave.  We had a great conversation and I helped them understand that is not what my decision was about.  I told them that we would be back to volunteer to make dinner for the residents as others have done for us while we have been here and reassured them that we would bring Jackson in so they could see him.  I felt as if a five ton elephant had just stepped off my chest once I committed to leaving.  A wave of relief washed over me and brought me to tears.  (again, remember I am postpartum)

Home is where the heart is, home is where our life is, home is where our dogs are, and home is where Jackson needs to be.  He is starting to prove that it is time to get serious about getting him there.  We are one step closer to being a family again.

I miss these faces: